


Inconvenient Bonds

by amarielah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (but with genuine feelings making it complicated), Age Difference, Alien Culture, Character Study, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, Psychic Bond, Ulterior Motives, possibly canon compliant, speculation in fanfic form, we'll see in a few months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarielah/pseuds/amarielah
Summary: Lotor had learned, over long centuries of navigating the universe as an exile, that one caught more insects with glucose than acetic acid. He'd also learned that it was important to keep his head, and not allow emotions to get in the way of his plans. He knew that Allura would oppose his ultimate objective, just as her father had with Honerva. He knew that there would come a time when he would have to shatter all the trust that he'd so painstakingly built between them.He was, alas, finding it difficult to maintain his usual detachment.





	Inconvenient Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> All of my Lotor speculations came and bit me in the ass, and I was compelled to put them into narrative form.

His breath had caught, the first time he'd seen her in person.

He had seen images and recordings of her before, of course, gathered by his network of spies. He had thought her pleasing, in an abstract sort of way. As he did many members of Galroid and Alteanoid species, along with many who resembled neither side of his bloodline.

Those digital facsimiles, he discovered, could never have prepared him for the experience of being close to her. Of seeing her in the flesh. She exuded power that buzzed along his skin, and her scent was sharp and sweet - undercut by something he couldn't quite describe. Heady, yet not cloying.

Features that had simply been pleasing on his viewscreen revealed a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts. A vision that was almost painful in its loveliness. He found himself wanting nothing more than to gaze at her at his leisure, so as to drink in every detail with every one of his senses.

It had been only his centuries of discipline that had allowed him to jerk his gaze away, to school his face into a mask of cool neutrality. It was a testament to his hard-won experience that he'd managed to speak at all, let alone with his usual composure. The pounding of his heart in his ears had made it far more difficult than usual to follow his own train of thought.

He was almost glad for the cell in which they confined him. It muted the scent of her to a degree that he could acclimate gradually, though it did nothing to keep her power at bay. He could feel that power coil and thrash in response to her emotions. Feel it call out to his own as kindred, longing to be part of a greater whole.

It was, he soon surmised, an unconscious expression of Allura's loneliness. Her desperate need to connect with the vestiges of a lost planet and people. He knew it all too well, as it mirrored his own. The empathy of shared experience had always proven fertile ground for the seeds of Lotor's ambitions.

The physical barrier between them served to thwart his desire to reach out and stroke her face. To unpin her hair and watch as it tumbled over her shoulders. The frustration of not being able to act upon these impulses was like an inoculation, preparing him for when it was only his own force of will that would serve as the barrier.

Allura was young, inexperienced, and had likely been sheltered by her father. If he was too forward with her, it would undermine everything he was hoping to accomplish.

He had to seduce her, if he was to use her as he needed. But as a friend and a comrade - perhaps a confidante. Not as a lover.

For his own sake, he could not allow it to go that far.

* * *

The connection between them, potent and undeniable, proved to be a double-edged sword. Lotor found that he didn't have to feign enjoying her company, nor the way his chest went warm at the sight of her smiling face. Allura was no fool, and would've no doubt detected insincerity - even had she not been on the lookout for the barest hint of duplicity.

It was something of a paradox: his regard for her was genuine, which paved the way to using her abilities for his own ends. Yet it gave rise to anxieties that had never plagued him before.

For centuries, the thought of finishing what his mother started had brought him nothing but anticipation. How could he have ever forseen that it would come at a such terrible price? He felt as though he'd waited his entire existence to meet Allura, only to discover that she would inevitably slip through his fingers.

Truly, fate had a cruel sense of humor.

* * *

"What did you do, when you faced the White Lion on Oriande?"

Allura looked up from the Altean artifact she'd been studying, clearly surprised by the question. This was the third time they'd met since their shared experience in that mystical realm. Despite his best efforts to conceal his disappointment in his failure to attain the secrets of Altean alchemy, things between them had become...strained. Countermeasures were in order.

"I told her that I would give her my life," she replied, without hesitation.

He felt a sardonic smile curling at the corners of his lips, despite the pang of annoyance he felt at the reminder of how easily Allura forfeited her own life. It was no fluke, he was starting to realize: her ethic of self-sacrifice bordered on suicidal. "I told her that I would have victory or death," he admitted.

"That...is the way of the Galra," she said, and he could tell that she was choosing her words carefully.

"But not Alteans," Lotor finished, knowing that she was being too diplomatic to do so of her own volition. He found that he rather missed the days when she'd been wholly candid with him. "I had thought, perhaps, that I'd failed due to my mixed heritage. But it was my mindset that the Lion rejected - not my blood." He sighed. "It was a comfort, I suppose, to imagine that the fault lay with factors that were wholly outside of my control."

Allura frowned, setting the artifact aside as she stood. "Not being exposed to Altean culture  _was_ outside of your control," she insisted. "There's only so much that one can hope to learn from ruins, Lotor. It's no substitute for a living people." It had not been so long ago that she might have come closer to him, taking his hands in hers. But now she kept her distance, despite her obvious attempt to comfort him. "Altea was stolen from you just as much as it was stolen from me and Coran."

Lotor felt the loss acutely - though whether it was the familiar, centuries-long ache of the legacy that had been denied him, or the far more recent withdrawal of Allura's easy proximity, he wasn't entirely sure.

He resisted the scowl that threatened to twist his face, settling instead on a far milder frown. "Not even death will rid me of my father's shadow, it seems."

Allura opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Perhaps she could think of nothing diplomatic to say. Lotor offered her a weak smile.

They returned to their respective studies, the silence hanging uncomfortably between them.

* * *

She was ahead of schedule when she came to visit him next, though he was glad of the excuse to dismiss the cabal of officials that he'd spent far too many hours humoring. He hadn't yet reached a level of security within his throne that he could afford to dismiss those advisers who he currently tolerated for appearance' sake.

He met Allura in their usual lab, rather than his throne room. The sight of her was at once a balm and a burden upon his heart. The latter made worse by how troubled she looked.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, walking to where she awaited him. He didn't have to feign the concern in his voice.

"I'm just ashamed," she said, her eyes downcast. "I wish I could tell you that I'm here to learn of your progress with securing the Empire, or to share some vital intelligence with you. But my reasons are...frivolous. I know you have important matters to attend to, and yet I came here on an impulse."

He caught her chin and gently tilted her head upward, gazing down into her eyes. "I would never consider a meeting with you to be frivolous, Allura. Your friendship is too important to me."

He saw the way her cheeks flushed at his words, and how her pupils grew larger. She was trembling. His stomach lurched.

"You've probably noticed that I've been...awkward, when we've been together," Allura broke their eye-contact, the blush growing deeper. He allowed his hand to fall away. "I decided that I owe you an explanation, since I realized my behavior could be easily misunderstood."

"I noticed," he admitted. "I had thought that you were perhaps disappointed in my failure at Oriande. Or that you thought me...resentful, of your success."

She shook her head, then said, "Something  _did_ change after Oriande, but it wasn't that. I realized that I... _desired_ you." The words were hesitant. Almost shy. Due to a fear of rejection, he was sure, rather than a lack of conviction regarding the nature of her desires. Her power was a testament to that certainty; it lapped against his skin in heady waves, beckoning him to acquiesce. "...Would you kiss me, Lotor?"

He would have to tread very carefully if he was to navigate his way out of this conundrum.

"It would not be right," he murmured, genuine regret coloring his tone. "I have been alive for centuries, no matter how I may outwardly appear. I don't wish to take advantage of that gulf in experience." He swallowed thickly. "Furthermore, I'm the Emperor of the Galra. Many already resent the Altean blood that flows in my veins. If my relationship with you is seen to be anything more than diplomatic, it may further undermine my position."

"I understand," Allura said, voice hitching. Tears were gathering in her eyes, and it pained him to see them. He longed to reach out and wipe them away. "I thought, perhaps-" She took in a shuddering breath, hugging herself. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to meet you in person for a while. The way you make me feel -" She wiped away her own tears with shaking hands. "It's already proven increasingly difficult to focus when I'm near you. I will need...time, to move past it."

The next words left his mouth before he could stop them. "And how is it that I make you feel, Allura?"

She shivered, despite her tears. "Like I'm burning up inside, and I'll go mad if you don't touch me."

Quiznak, she was beautiful. He took in a slow, deep breath. "...You were not imagining that your interest is reciprocated," he said, voice low. "In truth, since the moment I saw you, it's been a struggle to keep my wits."

She smiled weakly. Perhaps bitterly. "You certainly hide it well."

"I've had centuries to master myself," he reminded her. "Do you not see how that creates an imbalance between us? The thought of taking advantage of you, unwittingly or no...I couldn't bear it, Allura."

Let her think that he was protecting her, rather than himself. Perhaps then he could salvage what remained of their friendship, and stay the course of his plans. Perhaps then it would be slightly less painful when he inevitably disappointed her.

He forced himself to continue. "You deserve to be courted properly. You deserve a lover who has no need to hide the true nature of your relationship. And I'm in no position to give you what you deserve."

Her expression shifted into one of determination. It made his stomach lurch again. "And what if I told you that I'd be willing to take whatever you could give me, regardless of what you think I  _deserve_?" Her eyes narrowed. "It's true that you have a wealth of experience that I can never hope to match - but I am  _not_  a child. You trusted me to handle the journey to Oriande. Trust me now to handle  _this_." She reached out and placed a hand upon his cheek, her expression softening. "Please, Lotor."

It was that touch which undid him. Months of self-restraint crumbled into dust, and he swept his arms around her, finally claiming the soft lips that he'd dreamed of far too many times.

When he pulled away to gaze at her face, just to confirm that this too wasn't a dream, he saw that the Altean marks on her cheeks were glowing. Her eyes fluttered open, and she reached forward, touching his cheek once more. "Your markings..." she breathed.

He could feel how her power was seeping into his, granting tantalizing glimpses into the depths of her being. Emotions that were not his own came flooding into him, along with brief flashes of thoughts, memories - too jumbled to parse, but all undeniably Allura's. Briefly, an image crystallized in his mind: himself, through her eyes. A shameful sight, he thought, lacking any poise or composure, mouth dropped open and eyes wide like an ungulate in headlights. He saw them there, on his own cheeks. Altean markings, glowing as Allura's did.

"I look a mess," Allura murmured, which made him realize that she must have been granted similar access to his own mind. Terror welled up from the pit of his stomach at the thought of being so exposed. She traced gentle fingers over his cheek, frowning in concern. "What is it that you fear so?"

He could  _feel_ how she worried for him, how she cared for him. His chest tightened, making it difficult to speak. "I've lived for a very long time in a chaotic, indifferent universe," he said, hating the unsteadiness he heard in his voice. "And I've been driven to do horrible things in order to survive. I am no monster, like my father was - but that's an exceedingly low standard to meet."

It was close to the truth, but it was still a lie. Thankfully, it seemed that 'deception' was not an emotion in and of itself. Allura didn't push him away.

Indeed, it was not disgust that he saw on her face, or felt through the bridge between their minds. Nor was it pity.

It was sorrow, sincere and unguarded, and a longing so intense that it almost stole his breath away. "I swear to you, Lotor, that I will take no more than you're willing to give."

He should've stopped, then. Should've stepped away and told her that it had gone too far.

But there was a seductive little voice in the back of his mind, telling him that it need not end as he feared. That there was time yet to change her mind, and make her see that his designs were the only path to true, lasting peace. He could make her see reason. All the more so, with her soul bared to him as it was.

It was a comforting lie. But, as he leaned in to kiss her again, sinking into her warmth and affection, he allowed himself to believe it.


End file.
